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At the Core of the Golden City [MISSION || HAKAINUSHI]
defectiveImmediately
In-Training
Thunder for Mayor, Tyc for Attorney General, Necris for Congressman.
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Post by defectiveImmediately on Jan 3, 2014 19:51:06 GMT
3:05PM
Mansion of Tears
Basement "Operations Center"Daichi Kumo had never been gifted with technological aptitude. All things considered, he had been bemused for the entire time why his sister hadn't been running things from this little radio station, given her natural ability with computers or whatever the fu ck it was. The amount of times she had hacked his iPod to replace all his Pantera and Slipknot with Ke$ha and Miley Cyrus to get him back for whatever he'd done - usually smashing something she appreciated with his lumbering gait - were innumerable. Infact, sometimes, it wasn't even revenge. Sometimes it was just rubbing in his face that he was hungover or coming down or maybe he just hadn't slept so she decided "Your Love Is A Drug" at 6:30AM when they had the house to themselves on full blast from the boxer's speakers was the best way to go about the entire affair. But at the end of the day, Giygas had requested his sister's presence in assistance for this missive, and the attendance of some girl he hadn't met yet called "Akari", so they were going to run with the whole affair. Grasping the microphone hooked over his ear and down to the left of his lips, he began shouting at high speeds in the imitation of a military base commander from multiple fast-paced FPS video games - the few he actually played - into it. "Come in, Death, Devil, Empress, Judgment, Justice, Reaper Team Zero-One, repeat, Reaper Zero-One, this is Tower, do you copy? Repeat, this is Tower, do you copy?" Silence for the moment. The microphones crackled in his ears with the sounds of footfall- "Tower, this is Fellowship, could you please get Return and Hobbit and come back up to the lounge so we can watch the series of movies in full, over?""GET OFF THE FUCKING LINE, BARRIGAN!""Negative copy, Tower, this is Fellowship, did not hear, only heard "get off", "fucking", and potentially "butts"-""I WILL SMASH YOUR LORD OF THE RINGS DVDS."Crackle. Click. The third line went dead. Where had he gotten to? Oh, right; silence for the moment. The microphones crackled in his ears with the sounds of heavy footfalls down steps. ElDoradimon; he had seen pictures, drawn up blueprints, and from the two monitors in front of him, both streaming live from Giygas' eye-cam. The first was just a plain copy of the stream, maybe delayed by a few seconds - even in the Digital World, ironically, the net wasn't perfect - and the second was a variable copy, currently "comparing the three-dimensional framework and laying it over a blueprint", or so Vira had said. It just made it look all wiry. "Okay, Reaper Zero-One, I have a full camera feed from Devil, repeat, can see what's going on. You should be coming up to the doors within the next couple of minutes." Blueprints scattered around the monitors, the room kept dark as the sun began to set, and halfway across the Digital World, five of Daichi Kumo's erstwhile comrades were in the belly of the beast - to be specific, a beast with a majority of its biological composition comprised of solid gold. "Keep the Extractors on-hand, and your heads on swivels, Reaper Zero-One."
"Foul beast!" Cried the general, grasping tight his Sword of Storms, held upwards in a defensive stance, as he gyrated. The room he was locked in was small. The ground was covered with grit; silt, dirt, ash, and dust. There was a musty stench hanging in the air; he had tried already four times to blast open the door, but some foul magicks were keeping it locked; foul magicks that none of his stances or mystical attacks, powerful as they were, could rend asunder. "Trickster of the most detestable calibre!" He raised the blade high, and in a single fluid movement, turning to the door, ascertaining that the golden bricks around him held no surprises - provided he stayed completely still - pointed the tapered end of the colossal claymore downwards, stabbing it into the ground a good six inches before the outer shell of ElDoradimon - who presumably felt nothing but a negligible itch - stopped it from perforating any further. "You hath lured my erstwhile past comrades and I here with promises of glorious and lucrative riches here into what is indubitably a trap of the least honourable type." How right he was. But oh, how he underestimated his foe. "If you wish to do battle with me, sly purveyor of sorceries and illusions, show oneself immediately and mayhaps I shall give you the advantage of an honest duel with Tactimon, General of the Forlorn Castle!"
"TRANSCENDENT SWORD!" Whoosh. Clang.... "TRANSCENDENT SWORD!" Whoosh. Clang.... "TRANSCENDEEEEENT SWOOOORD!" Whoosh. Clang.Time and time again the blade of the fearsome defender of the Empyrean Skies fell upon the bricks of the trap within the innards of ElDoradimon, and time and time again, a blade and strike of power to most absolutely inconceivable bounced off without so much as leaving a scratch. ElDoradimon was a giant; and it seemed that even the metals that his innermost, negligible, and completely empty parts were constructed of could withstand the blasts and strikes of the panting guardian in glistening white armour. It seemed that as time had passed, the once-strong and fearsome leader of the triumvirate of adventurers, with his draconian brother and the uptight general, had let himself become lazy; with gifts given at his feet every day as he protected those who walked within the halls of the City of Luminas he had gorged himself on offering upon offering. His skill had become stale; his blade had become dull; Omnimon was nothing more than a shadow of his former self.
Thunk. With a weighty slam, and a cloud of dust, the Dramon Breaker let itself fall upon the floor, the flat of the blade collecting dust - as it had for the past few years - and its owner took to the musty floor moments later. "Hm." It thought to itself, letting its eyes close beneath its glistening metal helmet, surprisingly barely marred with scratches from all the times it had endured blows and beatings in the trio's many forays into the wilderness or the darkness. Once upon a time they had been the greatest; mercenaries, bounty-hunters, crime-fighters - for a price, of course - and the Digimon who developed over time the skill that all Digimon aspire to; the skill of fighting. Tactimon had retreated to his castle on the Cliffs; Omnimon had become lazy in taking up his job at the forefront of Luminas, expelling the odd troublemaker or thieving Rookie - chasing down Sukamon was the most exercise he'd had, the dragon would wager, for years. And he? He had become a nomad; wandering. Still fighting, of course; caring for those who passed through the Valley of Dragons like an unsung hero, an unspoken presence, a watchful, silent, invisible guardian who sometimes descended from on high upon the unruly and the feral. But above all else, what had he done these past few years? He had thought. "Whatever's called us here wants us to wait. Wants us to think." The dragon man lied back in the dirt and exhaled, eyes still closed, mammoth, armoured hands interlocked behind its head. "It wants to throw us off-guard, get us to freak out." In the distance he heard the clang of Omnimon's blade against the walls, and the continual, muffled repetition: "TRANSCENDENT SWORD! TRANSCENDENT SWORD! TRANSCENDEEENT SWOOORD!"The Greymon chuckled and shook his head, slowly exhaling. "Come on, VictoryGreymon, may as well get a few moments' peace before you have to start the fight."
OOC: HOKAY. Post order; Envy -> Zeo -> Al. That, however, only applies for the first round. After I post again - because in the next posts, you should all choose your doors and go through them. (Zeo: right, Envy: centre, Al: left). You know who you're facing off against, so be prepared before you go in there, and you know, Al and Zeo, that your Tamer's got to perform the finishing blow with the disposable single-use Extractors. Simple. What isn't is the post order after that. Once you're all split off, we will essentially establish three separate post orders; each of you may post so long as (obviously) I have to reply with your respective Mega. So say Envy posts, then Zeo posts, then I post, I will post with Tactimon and Omnimon's separate responses, and the pair of them may both post again. Once the enemies are deleted and their cores extracted, retire to the room outside - the doors will unlock - and then, you can wait, and stop posting til everyone finishes up. Hit me up if you have any questions; if not, good hunting, ladies and gentlemen. |
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jan 4, 2014 19:58:35 GMT
(3 hours of sleep and 10 hours of travel. Mercy please.)
The construct shifted his gaze between the doors occasionally, almost as if following a pattern of sorts. His ears seemed to flick every so often, grin getting wider with each strike. Even without his advanced perception he would still be able to hear the Omnimon ducking it out with the walls. So full of energy, such a good specimen. It was almost a shame they had to die, in this case almost carrying absolutely no weight out of the rhetorical context. The Vandermon nodded to himself. He needed strong cores after all and everyone knew that a king would never settle for less than the finest available.
The plan was straightforward; go in, enforce the cooperation of his unwilling donors, extract the cores and then spend a day or four studying the data and then molding it into the perfect blade. Giygas didn’t quite decide on a name yet. The deal was the blade would be shared in the event someone else from Hakainushi requested it’s power, but it was otherwise his to do as he pleased. ” ‘Share’ “ The scientist spat out under his breath, rolling his single eye as his needle like teeth stayed in grin formation.
"Using expensive equipment I made to screw around, I see." Giygas commented, bringing a claw against his chin.
"You have learned vell from me, my children." After all he messed with he stuff he made the most. "Also, who the hell said you could be reaper one? The codename I gave you vas Mr.Snuggles." The chimera added, mildly losing intrest in the conversation as his gaze would fall on the rest of his team. "Daichi aside, you guysandgirls are ready, right?" Naturally, Giygas, trusted his allies more than anything, but there was never any harm in double checking. He would offer them both a sly grin before turning to face his door, his mechanical eye focusing as it emitted a bright, red glow.
"Last one to make it out has to buy lunch." And with that parting, and mostly mumbled comment the door would start moving, allowing just enough entry for the researcher to slide inside before slamming shut. Finally, some action. His target, Tactimon, would certainly be an interesting fight. It all came down to who had the best strategy after all. The Vandermon shot a shoot at the general, crossing his arms, blades folded inside them for now.
"Giygas." The Digimon spat out before his donor could reply. "Engineer, General, generic terrorist, horse vhisperer, mall Santa and Rasputin impersonator." He added hastily, not really paying any attention to the conents of his words. "Let's get started, shall ve?" With that his blades, both steel and laser sprung to life.
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Post by Zero on Jan 4, 2014 23:18:12 GMT
"I don't see how this benefits us at all, Zeromon" Akari said flatly.
She traced her hand along the inside of ElDoradimon's walls. The living city. It was a shame she could not own such a Digimon. Certain limitations were in place that made it impossible for her to have him. Dreadnought was usually good enough. He served as both airship and submarine. Still, it was a little bit disappointing. Not as disappointing as this mission, though. Akari had a feeling that certain people were going to take advantage of the weapon they intended to manufacture. She wasn't so sure Vira would be leading very long. That is, unless she decided to take ownership of it. Between her and Otto, however, she doubted very much in the girl's ambition.
'Giygas, you owe me' she thought.
Zeromon, turning to his partner, agreed.
"Our days of chaos are done, Akari. We have allies now and they have needs" he replied.
"What about our needs?" she retorted.
"For the present, we have none that are pressing. Revenge is the only thing guiding us right now. If what's behind the door ahead gives us that, then we have all we need."
Sound logic.
"You've grown wiser, you know that? Nearly killing me brought you up a few IQ points" Akari smirked.
"I don't think it changed my intelligence any. I think I finally see the truth."
The duo followed a long and very narrow corridor. It seemed to spiral downwards into a pit of darkness, foiling the light from above as they continued their descent. At the bottom, Akari and Zeromon found themselves in front of three separate doors.
"Which one?" Akari asked.
Zeromon thought for a moment, but he was immediately tugged to the leftmost door. He smelled something...familiar.
"Revenge."
"Empress here. Copy. Whatever. Let's kill the bastards and-"
Akari's connection with the radio terminated. She hit the button again, getting nothing but static feedback. Confused, she tried resetting the device. Nothing seemed to work. Oh well. She'd heard Giygas ahead of her. She knew she couldn't be too worried. That was until she turned around and got a good look at her partner. A strange darkness began to wrap itself around Zeromon. Akari felt her Digivice beep loudly in her pocket, rumbling violently as she pulled it out and place it in her palm.
A scream.
An ivory hand reached down and grabbed the earpiece off the floor.
"Justice, copy" came a masculine, almost melodic voice, "I trust the delay in our connection was not problematic. Subject will have its core extracted and delivered as planned."
The new figure adjusted his helm and rolled his shoulders. He opened his hands, which promptly began to reshape themselves into a pair of sickles. His near-fluid body shook for a moment as the metal fixtures snapped into place, giving him new weapons. Instead of calmly opening the door, he thrust one arm forward and cut a large crack in the door. He then proceeded to drag the scythe down, allowing a small sliver of his face to show.
"Iscarimon is here."
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Post by terminallyVicious on Jan 5, 2014 16:12:47 GMT
Helping others wasn't really Vira's thing. It never was. It's always been about her and her only, even if she attempt to create the illusion that she actually cared about her friends. Maybe somewhere in her soul, she did, but at the moment, she really wasn't feeling it. The hacker was interested in everything but the main objective: what kind of gold and spoils were locked away in this giant moving beast, and moreso, exactly how this titan worked. She had composed a few blueprints before arriving in an attempt to understand the machinations of the giant and exactly how it ticked. Hell, maybe even hijacking it would be an option. That's what the old Hakainushi leader would've done, or at least she deducted from his many lengthy journal entries and research files. He was truly a great man, earlier slander aside. The most recent story was a grandiose tale about how he nearly escaped from some sword wielding "lunatic" who had a total "dragon fetish." He barely made it out alive, and lost an arm in the process, but later on it tells how he replaced it with a mechanical one. Totally badass, this guy was.
The walls of this Elwhatevermon were lined with gold. Lined with it. What the hell was wrong with just stripping the interior of this thing? There was truly nothing that money couldn't buy; power included, so why waste valuable time collecting research subjects? It all seemed a bit illogical to Vira, but this was Giygas asking the favor, and he was without a doubt the legendary Alastor's most trusted companion, so it's not like he could be wrong or anything. There were three targets, and from her research, they were all a lot more powerful than what her own partner was capiable of doing. This didn't bother her, though, she was the leader, and there was no way she could lose. If pride could manifest in a physical form, Lucifer would be given a run for his money by this girl.
"Well? Aren't you going to say anything before your 'big fight'? C'mon, the others are probably doing it." It was a taunt, but an idle one, she had been walking for what seemed like miles. Hell, it probably was miles, this thing was even bigger than expected with all the planning and drawing and slaving over research files. The Keramon had the luxury of levitation. "Not really. I'm gonna go fight a f009584 Mega-leveled Digimon, kick his a55 right quick, return home and have a nice little f678902 snack." They were really starting to rub off on each other; especially in the sarcasm department. "Yeah, no problem. I'm totally not going to die or anything." The dark blue haired girl simply snarked at this, continuing to walk forward towards the destination, which would hopefully be coming soon.
At last, just as the doors were coming into sight on the horizon of view, the radio the older Kumo had been given by her brother finally started to come to life. First it was Daichi's voice, attempting to be in control of the situation, but totally losing out to his sarcastic Digimon. Eh, smarts wasn't his game, not all spiders weave webs. At times she wished she was given such an asshole as a partner, this Barrigan guy actually had a fantastic sense of humor. Perhaps personality between partners was supposed to contrast or something, maybe it was like a challenge. This Digital World thing was starting to feel like nothing more than an over-glorified video game. Next was the G-Man himself, talking in an almost comical tone. Before she could answer the MechaFangmon, Akari came on before briefly cutting out and coming back in a totally different voice. Weird, but whatever.
"This is Death, over." Was saying that really nessecary? duck yes it was, it was all sorts of cool. It was all of the cool. "I got Judgement's pathetic ass with me. He's like, mastur---" A fuss would be heard over the radio as the unidentified Digimon would try to snatch the radio from Vira, causing a number of things to be heard next; "I'm not doing tha- Do you even have a-- Give me the f560940 radi-- No stop I didn't say over ye-- I hate this more than I hate mysel-- Shut up Keradumba-- A crack would be heard, as the small radio was dropped onto the hard surface of the giant's 'floor'. After a moment of silence, Vira's nasally voice would be heard, showing she had come out victorious in the conflict; "Yeah, G-Man, you better not back out of that lunch deal, because I can't afford it. Over." She mostly just called Giygas that because of the video game reference, though his name reminded her of one of her more favorite games involving a child with a yo-yo. The girl hung up the radio, stopping at a large door, the only one left not chosen.
"Open this shit up, Otto." Without second questioning his Tamer's orders, the jellyfish moved the massive slab with not his arms but his willpower, making it a little more than easy to crack open. She was greeted by a blinding light, something that would cause her to shield her eyes with her arm. Otto on the other hand stared directly into the light, disorienting his vision and ultimately making the duo a little less than prepared for what was on the other side of the door.
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defectiveImmediately
In-Training
Thunder for Mayor, Tyc for Attorney General, Necris for Congressman.
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Post by defectiveImmediately on Jan 7, 2014 23:42:01 GMT
"Also, who the hell said you could be reaper one? The codename I gave you vas Mr.Snuggles."
"I'll snuggle your face with my balled up fist, Nazi."
"Iscarimon is here."
"...who?"
"Yeah, G-Man, you better not back out of that lunch deal, because I can't afford it. Over."
"Good luck. Cheapskate bastard never holds up those agreements."
"Giygas."
"SO!" The voice of the general boomed, reverberating from golden brick to golden brick. Crack. He wrenched the Sword of Storms to the side in the ground, and a few linear crags appeared beneath him. "This is the foul beast that hath lured mine olden kindred spirits and I to this golden... hell..." Behind the samurai visor, he scanned the Digimon up and down. Perhaps he was a being of great power; an amalgamation of flesh, fur, and metal. Eyepatch. Scanner. Technology. Bah. Tactimon abhorred technology. Bladesmanship and natural skill replacements for the weak. Those who had neither time nor drive nor true want to master the blade could with minutes master the cannon. It was a shortcut to true power. But there were shortfalls with technology; it was problematic. Tactimon had devoted endless hours, day upon day, week upon week, month upon month, toning and honing his body all for the mythical swordsman arts he had so perfected. That journey had hardened his resolve to the point that a simple gunman could not so much as understood; when you sacrifice so much time to not learn to be able to use a blade, but to instead become one with it, weaving and dancing as it slashes through the air as if it is nothing more than an extension of your hand, training all day, every day... there is a part of your soul that, through some odd spiritual osmosis, leaves your body, and sustains a link. There were two that Tactimon knew had even the potential to best him in single close combat; and they were in the rooms either side of him. He was not about to make that three.
"You pitiful excuse for a mortal beast, a demon of will so weak you must resort to your pathetic machinations and traps to split us apart..." Chnk. Wsssssh. The colossal blade of massive proportions, after a single mighty tug, was wrenched free from the greedy, tight grasp of the ravenous earth beneath their feet, and in a continual fluid movement, reversed and pulled into Tactimon's hands as he set his feet a shoulder's width apart and moved one behind him, so he was facing side-on towards the wall, a smaller target as his enemy looked from the elevated steppe before the door. "You are a scoundrel, a coward, a rogue, a thief without honour! You are no true warrior! Even one who lusted for our power as you must do would recognise that it would be nothing if not earnt by besting we three alone!" With a sharp exertion of noise, Tactimon began to ready himself for attack, choosing the tachi he would utilise first against this foe. In any regular duel of honour and legitimacy he would have begun at, perhaps, an easier stage, to elongate their battle and make it feel as if it had been worth it; here, he was rushed, he was cornered, at a knowing disadvantage in a confined space, and concerned for his friends, alienated as they may have been for the past few years. "GO-NO-TACHI!" A sharp movement. The blade of his sword was bared in a perfect, angular, horizontal line. "GORYOUNAKU!"
A stroke first to the left yielded a shockwave in the shape of a small aerial energy blade immediately began flying towards Vandermon with all the speed of one of his energy beams or bullets. As soon as the blade's tip had pulled free from the burst of energy, it spun to the other side, gyrated, and crossed straight back over the exact same area, creating another. This action was repeated, side-to-side, again and again, until five blasts of energy had been launched at the foul creature. One, he could dodge. Two, perhaps, still. Three, then he was a warrior. But few had ever dodged five, or been able to hold their ground against them and remain standing.
"Iscarimon is here."
Halfway through moving back from another cloud of dust generated by a stroke of his thirty-fourth successive and unrelenting Transcendent Sword - which, to note, had made absolutely no damage to the wall whatsoever - the door had swung open. When the dust had cleared, there it stood; his adversary, it seemed, behind a sliver of cleaved door in an impeccable yet far from impressive The Shining reference. "Oh, good," Omnimon murmured laconically, shaking his white, helmet-clad head, and rubbing the WarGreymon helmet's teeth up against it, imitating the scratching of a human scalp. "So, how does this work?" White armour, sickles, imposing height, human structure, yadda yadda yadda, same old same old. "You're another wannabe me in white armour with a vendetta and a lust for power, only reason why you coulda' brought me here, so, infact, let me tell you how this works."
Omnimon lowered the WarGreymon head and sighed. "You're gonna make some imposing speech about who you are, why you want my power, how I've wronged you slash inspired you and all of that shit I really don't care about. I'm tired, I'm lazy, and I could really just do with a pack of DigiMushrooms, some cheap, shitty ground burger from Tanemon's down the block, and watching an episode of Etemon's Greatest Hits, so can we cut to the chase?" The "warrior of light", traditional and all, raised his arms up high and jumped from one foot to the other making gorilla noises. "Save your breath. End of the day, you're a thug. I really don't have time for this. So why don't you do yourself a favour, keep the weapons low, and let me just delete you, cause we both know, at our cores, this is where it's heading, anyway."
Shk. The Grey Sword beneath the orange skull of the WarGreymon exoskeleton retracted like someone had just tugged back a stiletto blade, nothing more than that. Omnimon crossed it in front of him, and, beneath that little white helmet, cracked a grin, and straightened the other arm, keeping it rigid and steady, blue armour of the MetalGarurumon head and all. "Come on, man, you're not the first to do this." He sighed, almost managing to feign genuine disappointment as opposed to laziness and boredom. "Just quit whilst you're ahead." A dull whine began to seep out from within the maw of the metal wolf's skull. Iscarimon made no motion towards moving. "Fine, fine, have it your way. This is gonna hurt." The whine began to increase, both in pitch and dynamic volume. "Don't say I didn't warn you." As the sound began to reach its shrill peak, from within, a blue energy suddenly began to manifest, seemingly from nowhere.
"SUPREME CANNON!" As the last consonant of the word boomed around the room - the first phrase that Omnimon had actually uttered since Iscarimon had entered with anything more than ten percent of his effort or resolve audible - the energy, a light shade of some amalgam between blue and white, hissed out with a burst of outward sound, the Garurumon head - as it always did - shooting upwards, almost aiming to the ceiling with the recoil, as a burst of supercharged sub-zero cold fusion energy launched itself at the sickle-bearing reaper with a flash of light that filled the room. And, then, amongst it all: "WOOOO-HOOOOO!" Huh. Maybe this was going to at least be a little fun after all.
"Hey, kids." They were the first words to echo out of VictoryGreymon's mouth.
No harsh declarations of war or combat; he didn't leap to his feet and begin accusing them of entrapment or swearing blindly at them. After all, what did that achieve? Waste of energy and breath on his part. The girl was short; spindly, pale, and rather venomous-looking. And the Digimon... well, hot damn, her partner was a Keramon. Now that was something you didn't see every day around the Digiworld. As opposed to Tactimon and Omnimon, who wanted to get their fights over as quickly as possible, the Greymon derivative had something of a... different approach to take when it came to defending his weapon and data. That was, he wasn't planning on defending it at all. "Take a seat," He said, calmly following the pair with his gaze as he offered his clawed, armoured hand to the steps.
"You came in here expecting a fight." VictoryGreymon nodded, and shrugged, idly lowering a hand and curling in three fingers and a thumb, leaving his single index of the hand unfurled as he began to idly draw patterns with it in the dirt around the flat-laid Dramon Breaker on the ground. "I hate to disappoint, but, I mean, it really wasn't going to achieve anything." Pausing a moment, he tapped on the blade twice, the motions equidistant, resonating with that two identical chimes that echoed around the room. "After all, this is what you're after, right?" The dragon man shrugged. "You're welcome to fight me. If you win, it's yours, and if I win, it remains mine. I'm offering the possibility for my failure just as much as yours, unlike the smug bastards in the room next to me, I'd imagine." An ironic statement, given his species name. He tilted his head and scanned the pair of them up and down for a moment in silence, before coming to the conclusion; they were worthy.
"I'm not a moron. I can see your strength. Maybe you guys haven't fully discovered it yet, but it's there, the potential waiting to be unlocked, and that much is true." A lifetime of wandering granted you a certain degree of... enlightenment in sensing the auras and directions of others. The two other presences that had wandered to do battle with Tactimon and Omnimon - audibly - were just as powerful as these two, with just the same constraints, but, thankfully, not quite nearly as conventional. "Point is, we fight, there's a margin for error for both of us." The dragon of orange and chromed Digizoid tilted his head and offered the best attempt at a grin he could. "What about if I can lower that margin to zero? There's a way I can promise you can walk outta here with the sword and not a scratch on either of you." He shrugged, sitting up and adjusting the crossing of his legs a moment.
"Simply put, I've been wandering the Valley alone for something like five human years now." VictoryGreymon shrugged. "Defending it, waylaying the odd rampaging Wingdramon, keeping the harmony, but mostly just sitting in silence and solitude and... thinking." And, in truth? It had granted him a certain degree of... enlightenment. Ascendancy. He had the potential to see in different dimensions; think more outside the box than his warrior comrades did. They were beings of pragmatism, or practicality; perhaps he was too weak-willed, to them, but he was a being of thought, of philosophy. "As time's gone on, the fights have gotten fewer and fewer. I've become content with, in most cases, just watching the cycle of nature take its course. Just walking; striding the Valley's great lengths and crags day in, day out. It's exercise enough for me." He trailed a tapered finger up and down the length of the blade with a shing. "The blade's getting to be more a weighty burden than a blessing. It hasn't seen any blood or data for months, now. And I'd be quite happy with relinquishing it." It was here he held up a golden, steeled finger. "To a worthy new owner, of course." Good? Evil? Irrelevant. Just so long as they could handle its power.
"So, here's my deal. Sit, talk with me, toil with me, and answer three riddles I give you correctly, the blade is yours. You walk out of this room unscathed. Likelihood is your comrades will succeed; Tactimon and Omnimon have grown old, disillusioned, and lazy, in their castle or by the gates as nothing more than a glorified watchtower." VictoryGreymon chuckled to himself, apparently amused - somehow - at the pitiful remnants of his "friends"' old life. "Leave me be then, and I will respond in kind. I'll wait here in silence until I feel like leaving. Could be days." He hadn't been atop ElDoradimon in a while. |
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Post by Zero on Jan 8, 2014 0:50:55 GMT
"I do not owe you a monologue" Iscarimon said curtly.
Just another villain? This wasn't the Omnimon he knew. Zeromon's master would never make such a bold and uninformed boast about an opponent. In any case, this revenge would be sweet. Killing another Omnimon was almost as good as killing the 'real' one. If it had been the case, however, Iscarimon would execute the 'real' Omnimon publicly. He wouldn't keep his death shut off from the rest of the Digital World. He wanted everyone to see. For now, he would have the dull satisfaction of slaying another Super Mega inside a remote fortress. Ho hum. Vandermon was lucky he had such an ally on his side. Iscarimon didn't play well with others. He played far too rough.
'May Judas' wrath fall upon you.'
"Subjugation!"
Iscarimon's arms began changing shape again, this time assuming the shape of a giant vacuum. Both limbs fused together, absorbing the entirety of the incoming attack. The Traitor's feet slid across the floor somewhat, sending him about a meter back from the force of impact. Smoke fumed from the nozzle of his new weapon, leaving nothing behind. A strange sort of electricity coursed through Iscarimon's body, rejuvenating him. Was this what Omnimon was expecting? Fortunately for his opponent, Iscarimon couldn't use this move twice. Unfortunately, though, he had another one in mind.
"Oblivion."
Iscarimon's body warped hideously, his fused limbs falling apart into a pile of confused tendrils. More of these sprang from his back and his sides, giving him limitless extensions as his ghastly form quickly began to overtake the room. Each tendril culminated in an absurdly sharp point, created for the express purpose of impaling Omnimon alive. Skewering his foe would be the first step. Disarming him would be the next. Then, he would surgically remove his Digicore, leaving him to die in a pile on the floor.
In an instant, Omnimon would find himself needing to dodge hundreds of dangerous lashes and piercing jabs. Was Iscarimon really just another wannabe to him, or did this guy actually mean business?
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jan 8, 2014 5:37:08 GMT
The scientist listened to the tactician rumble in some kind of self-glorification rant about how he was a stronger, wiser and more noble warrior than him. The simple fact he followed a hand written letter into an obvious trap determine that was a lie and Vandermon couldn't really be bothered with petty arguments about things as trivial as honor. The synthetic monstrosity seemed to be more focused on his heart displaying monitor that appeared to flicker rather than the Tactimon, lightly tapping with an electrified claw until the image stabilized, a cartoon looking heart coming to life behind the screen. The blasted thing had trouble keeping up with his body's rapid adaptions, but this was merely a beta issue he would resolve later.
”Yeah, yeah. I haven’t set mein translator to bullshit, so vat do you say ve skip zat?” The Vandermon snarled, his gear like focusing on that sword. He could practically read its power even though it was still sealed. The researcher beamed with excitement. Even if its owner was unskilled, the blade was certainly what he was looking for, and by all means, Giygas always took what he wanted. Of course, he would have to fight and inevitably kill the Tactimon to obtain it, but that was nothing but necessary sacrifice for the greater good, or so the emperor would note in his data log that day.
Giygas paused for a moment as his foe made the first move. An intense rush climbed up the living machine’s metallic spine, his true sight letting him see every speckle of energy as it formed and shot out of the blade. A soft grin stretched across his face, his sharp, needle like teeth showing as the Vandermon braced himself. The first hit was quite easy to dodge, but oddly enough he didn’t dodge it fully. Giygas allowed the edge of the shockwave to brush against his shoulder pad as he moved out of way, taking minimized damage, but gaining a light blue, electric charge around his armor. Scourge Regalia, the armor of suffering. The more attacks it absorbed the stronger the charge became, all while reducing the damage its owner suffered. However, the scientist knew full well that suffering all shots would be unwise to say the least. That first hit was enough to suggest that the general was quite skilled. In the end, the dodged two more hits before finding himself faced with a direct hit by the remaining blasts. ”Spatial Distortion!”
Just as the collision was ready to happen, the Tactimon would notice that his target was no longer there, instead, a grinning mixture of flesh and machine would appear behind the general, metallic and beam blades alike extending from above his wrist and elbows on both of his arms. ”Vat a stronk svord you have zer. But!”Suddenly the blue lighting crackling around the Vandermon’s body would turn crimson, a soft ringing sound, almost inaudible had the swordsman not been that close would be heard. ”Can it block zis?” Giygas barked, a steam cloud releasing from his wrist blades. ”UPGRADE! Vicious Barrage!” The emperor barked before his wrist blades suddenly pulled inwards and moments later shot out like powerful pistons, producing a powerful, lineal energy shock wave that shot forward, capable of slicing anything in its path. The mechanized chimera wasn’t quite used to this body yet and an opponent as powerful as the particular prey he picked would make an excellent data to test opportunity.
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defectiveImmediately
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Post by defectiveImmediately on Jan 11, 2014 14:32:21 GMT
"Subjugation!"
The beam of frozen energy shot straight into the mutilated flesh of Iscarimon's makeshift vacuums, and a wayward cloud of smoke begun to seep out after the shrill whine met the open space with a resounding thud. Smoke filled the arena from the epicentre of the impact, and through it all, waiting for it to dissipate and clear, as it always did, Omnimon was left standing, with the teeth of the Garuru Cannon against his head, thoroughly confused. "Huh. Usually works." He shrugged. So, what, maybe this one had seen a little of it all coming, this wanna be impersonator. He'd even taken the colour of his armour - the styling, too - and looked like a combination between him and General fucking Grievous. "I'm honoured, really, that you're making such a tribute to your favourite hero celebrity, but, really, this is just embarrass-"
"Oblivion." At a moment's notice, everything changed. The battlefield exploded; another shrill, eldritch-like shriek filled the halls of the small room that fate had chosen to be the small, scarred part of this mammoth city-Digimon that was their battleground. The mood broke; and this formerly intimidating, sword-bearing, flamed-wing reaper Iscarimon began to transform. Something, something in the atmosphere shifted, dramatically so. A dark, incomprehensible, unspeakable variable entered into to play, and the equation shifted. If Omnimon had a brow beneath his enigmatic helm, it would be furrowed. This one, it appeared, was different. No vaccine anti-hero fanatic. No, this was a real villain. He considered beginning to take it seriously instead of dealing with it in the laconic, bored manner he normally would these try-hards.
It was at that moment that the room exploded with tendril upon tendril upon tendril. They launched outwards from Iscarimon's body, seemingly if they were not an attack he directed, but more a force he summoned that... took control and used his figure as a vessel to launch these blade-like organic wires outwards with incredulous force. There was little time to react; no time to prepare himself a shield that he was sure the eldritch energies of these blades would no so meaninglessly shatter. Instead, he had to prepare himself with the best defense he could: offense. Baring the Grey Sword which extended outwards from the WarGreymon head with a shlk, he opened his mouth, and bellowed, louder and with more force and energy behind it than he had in years, the name of an attack he had "used" many a time, but an attack, the force of which he was properly unlocking once more for the first time in what felt like far too long: "TRANSCENDENT SWORD!"
The blade charged with energy; the digital runes upon its glistening surface reading "All Delete" glowed with the force of a thousand digital suns. The tendrils were speeding towards him and breakneck speed and he recognised he wouldn't have time to complete the full arc. Holding the blade up above his shoulder, energy began to cling with it in an orange luminescence, inexplicable and unfathomable. The adrenaline was on the tips of his programming, and he could feel himself running into overdrive. It was all about timing, now. When everything began to flash before his eyes and the horrid tendrils of origins unknown were barely inches from him, and he felt the reaper knocking at his door, he unleashed the attack, slashing downwards, and carving a single, energy-powered, super-heated swathe through the necks of all of the tapered tentacles he could with one fell swoop. The sharpened, pointed, arrow-like heads fell to the floor, smoking from where they had been sheared from the body of Iscarimon's assault - almost all of them, anyway.
The attack had been a few moments off. The window he had was one that could only just fit a single, full, 180-degree arc in it if triggered at exactly the right moment. And in his early days he could have done. In his youth, his prime, that was a manoeuvre he could confidently execute with ease, day-in, day-out. But, alas; the years and his laziness, his utter passivity, had made his skills begin to wilt and decay. The last two tendrils that were to be released in his direction, on the side of the Brave Shield Omega and the Grey Sword itself, had punctured his armour, Crest of Courage and all, leaving him flinching and quivering. "B-Bastard," He murmured with vehemence in his voice, using the tapered metal fangs of the Garuru Cannon's shell to grasp and pull away the tendrils from the shattered, ugly-looking holes in his armour. No-one had dented him like this in a long time. He had underestimated Iscarimon.
Behind the great shockwaves, moments before Tactimon expected them to impact and crush this pathetic, baiting trickster, he heard one thing. ”Spatial Distortion!” This was perhaps a move his roguish adversary could save himself with against... lesser opponents, but against the Sword of Storms and the general's strategic knowledge, none could defend themselves against a full-on brutal onslaught. Proudly he stood and listened, waiting to hear the sounds of the shredding of flesh and the rending of the pathetic metals this useless beast had augmented his body with. The first wave hit brick. As did the second. Then the third... and the fourth... and the fifth!? He felt no change of presence or shift in the air, until, inches behind him... ”Vat a stronk svord you have zer. But! Can it block zis?”
What trickery was this!? What had this creature done?! He had moved beyond the understanding of speed or space or time; he had simply... appeared, and avoided one of his most formidable Tachis as if it were nothing but a spit-bubble from some pathetic In-Training! Tactimon whirled around and leapt backwards in a reversing dodge, wary of any backstabbing moves coming his way - the honourable warrior-king Tactimon would not be felled by the foolish and dishonourable stratagems and bamboozles of some... sly heathen, new to the world of war. Perhaps he had been taught in it; but Tactimon had embraced the very ideals of war and battle long ago. He had learnt, understood, and fully submerged himself in the ocean that was the vast wealth of knowledge surrounding combat. By any definition of the word, he was a true master. And here, this "Giygas" was making a living fool of him. "I demand you abandon your sorcery at once and fight me like a true warrior, not some detestable amalgamated imitation and machination of your pathetic sciences!"
"UPGRADE! Vicious Barrage!"
"SHI-NO-TACHI!"
The pistons shot forward and launched an impressive shockwave of energy towards him; but as was one of the true creeds of battle, Tactimon found himself utterly ready, baring the Sword of Storms high and ready to slash downwards whatever this creature did. Had he not been ready - had it been a backstab of the pathetic wolf-machine and his sorcery - perhaps his impressive, powerful shockwave, which felt as if it seemed to shear any particle of dust and the very molecules of oxygen and carbon dioxide it came into contact with in two, would have reached Tactimon, and perhaps that would have been a very swift end to this battle, and the General's story. But he was ready. The sword met the top of the energy blade, and with power and energy amassed in a split-second but that had been waiting and charging since he used the last tachi, slammed it down into the ground and dissipated the energies outwards, the two moves cancelling themselves out. "FIGHT LIKE A WARRIOR, COWARD!" He called in his most grandiose and bellowing venomous voice, spitting it through gritted teeth - well, he would have been if he had teeth behind his mask, anyway. |
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Post by terminallyVicious on Jan 11, 2014 14:33:33 GMT
Luckily, Vira was not meant with a quick swipe or stab, but rather a relaxed individual who began prattling on in a lofty matter about how he and his friends have deteriorated from all the years. While she did listen to the dragon man with careful intent, she found herself utilizing her Digivice to get a read on him at the same time. The data read something similar to her allies who were probably having badass showdowns in the adjacent rooms; Super Mega. Without commenting on that, mostly because the "VictoryGreymon" was still speaking, she idly put her hands in her pockets, eyes now adjusted to the light. The hacker had concluded that trying to fight this warrior directly would be problematic, since her Digivice couldn't read Otto, and his strongest form thus far has been revealed to be a measly Champion. The levels seemed to come to her a little easier at this point, Mega was two levels above Champion, and Super Mega was a level above that. Seeing that a single level difference is usually more than enough, she didn't even want to test a three level one. On her own partner, anyway.
At last, the Greymon subspecies had ceased talking, allowing for an appropriate window of for a response. The girl didn't say anything at first, looking down at the ground pondering her response, then back at the dragon man. Keramon never really moved or stopped looking at the stronger Digimon, but also wasn't paying attention to the situation very well. There were a lot of words being spoken, and that's all he really knew. That seemed to happen a lot. "Interesting how you think this would somehow be a fair fight. I concluded something entirely different." It was not a lie, but something that could easily be perceived as a threat. The jellyfish was closely looking at a wall, or something of the sort. "You're lucky. If one of the other two would have opened your door, they probably would've already destroyed you. Or tried, anyway. I have reason to assume some of what they say is nothing more than glorified talk." As assumption made based on her own experiences with herself.
A new thought invaded the Hakainushi leader's mind. Perhaps Otto did have some sort of hidden potential, and maybe this gentlemen knew how to unlock it. Killing him outright, even if she had the power to do so, wouldn't be the wisest choice to make in this particular situation. Following her Digimon's lead, who already took the liberty of doing so, the Tamer walked down the several golden steps to plant her feet firmly in the sand below. It was a basic room, walls made of gold brick that the thief would certainly love to take home with her, shining through the slight sand dusting they recieved from the various although minimal amount of activity the room saw. Seeing that her foot sunk down slightly, it was quickly assumed that there was at least a foot of sand present before reaching the likely golden bricked floor, though this was just that; an estimate.
"I'll be more than happy to answer your riddles," The words rolled off of her tongue in a unscrupulous manner, "If you're willing to offer more than just the sword." Her arms found themselves crossed in an attempt to get comfortable, something she just couldn't seem to do at the moment. "It's cool and all, and I'm sure powerful, but not really any use to me personally." Vira knew something of value to her would present itself at some time during this little mission, something she planned fromt he start. There was always an alternative motive, a personal plan, something so that she could exploit whatever was going on for her own gain. It was always there, though at first it was simply a few gold bricks, and now, something potentially far greater than that. "My partner...oh wow, I'm actually about to admit this to the enemy, but I'm sure you could see it anyway. He's not exactly well put together." In fact, at this moment, drool was seeping from the smiling monster's mouth. She was getting off track, and probably losing the dragon hero's interest. "So, ask me your riddles, and I'll answer. However, you must promise to give the Dramon Breaker and help this poor fool figure out how to get to Mega." It was now a battle of words, if the VictoryGreymon didn't decide to simply make quick work of her and her partner now that the weakness had been exposed. |
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defectiveImmediately
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Post by defectiveImmediately on Jan 11, 2014 15:48:11 GMT
"You're lucky. If one of the other two would have opened your door, they probably would've already destroyed you. Or tried, anyway. I have reason to assume some of what they say is nothing more than glorified talk." Probably not destroyed him. He was not abstaining from delving into combat from her because he couldn't; all could fight when pushed far enough, it was the survival instinct of all data, In-Training through to levels beyond the comprehensibility of Super Mega. He was abstaining from combat simply because he did not want to fight. It was beginning to bore him. "I'll be more than happy to answer your riddles, if you're willing to offer more than the sword." An interesting proposition. What did the girl have in mind?
"It's cool and all, and I'm sure powerful, but not really any use to me personally." The dragon man tilted his golden-orange head in slight confusion, staring off over the girl and her Keramon. Why... were they here, then? Oh; for the wills and whims of another. That made sense. It did not seem right for a girl and her Digimon, stunted as he appeared to be, to be controlling of such influence that she could have spies tail the trio - not just yet, anyway. "My partner...oh wow, I'm actually about to admit this to the enemy, but I'm sure you could see it anyway. He's not exactly well put together." He met her sharp, wily gaze once more, having come to his conclusion that she was here as a sort of... favour, or perhaps a task - she seemed rather independent - and took into regard her consideration of him as "the enemy". Her scrutiny was good. It would do her well in her life and conquests here as they begun close to, so close the end of his. But he digressed; a string of translucent purple drool was trickling down, viscous and sticky, from the Keramon's mouth and pooling on the sand and bricks. Eh, the species were like that. He was sure the mind within was... endowed with glorious intelligence, hard as it was to believe.
"So, ask me your riddles, and I'll answer. However, you must promise to give the Dramon Breaker and help this poor fool figure out how to get to Mega." He arched a brow beneath the glistening, yet faded golden Digizoid of his helmet-crest. Mega? There was certainly power enough locked and restrained within; but Digivolution was an internal struggle, not something that he, in all his worldly wisdom, could simply snap his fingers and cause. The only knowledge he had of that ever occurring was of a Digimon they called "the Light". But... ahh, well, it didn't matter. If he possessed the capacity to do so, and the energy and data accumulated was already there, as he could sense it was, perhaps he could help provide the final push to let this Keramon digivolve.
"A bold gesture, trying to haggle with the person who is making you a mutually beneficial deal already..." VictoryGreymon shrugged with a toothy smile, admiring the girl's drive. She reminded him of a younger, human... well, him. The Keramon? Not so much. And whether he was going to help it Digivolve for good or for evil - presumably the latter - it made no difference to him. He was not long for this world - self-interest was a valid drive when push came to shove. "Very well. I cannot promise anything, but you have my word I will try to help your..." He stared at the drooling monster. "...partner..." It was going to be difficult, that was true enough. "...look for the power within and access his capacity to Digivolve." He tilted his head and scryed what he could tell about the creature some more.
"It seems it was no stranger to such power in its past life..." Oh; no, it had been more powerful than he could ever conceived. A locked-away, unholy grail, of the deepest, darkest energies, beyond his conception - if he had the ability to, he was sure it would test his mind and the very fabrics of his soul to delve any further. "Remember, I will only reward you so for correct answers. You would do best to keep that in mind before answering so rashly." But it was inconsequential to him. He had stopped caring about the balance of the world a long time ago: just observing it. "And I will only state the riddles once, so be careful to listen, or your chance to gain what you require will be lost. You will have to then fight me for the Dramon Breaker, instead." He didn't really want that.
The dragon shook his consideration of the Keramon's worldly soul and core away and begun. It was none of his business, after all. "The first riddle, then." He grinned, and locked eyes with the girl. "'Over fire and over stone, over water and over bone,'"A pause for effect, to let it sink in. "'Shining out like jewels of light, on a sheet of perfect night.'" VictoryGreymon tilted his head. The first of three. This would at least let him gauge her intelligence, see if it was on par with her lust for power. "What are they?" |
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Post by Zero on Jan 11, 2014 23:36:32 GMT
Iscarimon didn't need to gloat to prove that he had the upper hand in this match. It wasn't so much that he had a lot of experience or expertise, he just had a lot of conviction. His old self - his true self, that is - had been a master of death. As it was now, he was simply regaining his former power. Achieving his prior level would take time. Fortunately, Omnimon would quicken that process. A tough opponent meant that he would have to adapt much faster than before. This was all just a memory game, anyway. Buried deep within the vestiges of his mind lay one of the most powerful Digimon to walk the Earth. It was about time that he tapped into that potential.
The knight beast recalled his hundred arms, allowing all of the broken tendrils to sink back into his skin. His body reformed, taking his former shape. Amidst of blob of shifting matter, the crest of his helmet appeared, revealing his terrifying (and yes, Grievous-like) visage. Having such a fluid composition made Iscarimon difficult to predict. He was mostly composed of techno-organic protoplasm: half living, half...something else. A large parasite governed most of his faculties, making him unlike any other Digimon. Extending his now humanoid arms, he admired his prowess. This body was formidable. He was impressed.
"I would like to introduce you to my dragons" Iscarimon began.
He dragged his words out somewhat, allowing Omnimon a chance to guess what he was going to do next. His arms shifted again, transforming this time into a set of identical blades. These weapon arms had a particular quality to them, resembling oversized keys. With these new fixtures, Iscarimon began to mumble an incantation under his breath. He threw his arms above him and carved a circle in the air. Nothing happened at first, until the circle began to glow a fierce shade of red. The ground began to shake violently beneath them as a giant door began to appear. The smell of sulphur leaked from within the cracks, which suddenly began to grow larger.
"Wyrmhole."
In a cacophonous roar, several hellish dragons burst from the door, slithering about the room like a horde of hungry snakes. They hissed and growled, attempting to wrap themselves around Omnimon's legs. Short spurts of fire burst from their nostrils, their eyes now fixed on their new target. These 'wyrms', as it were, had nasty tempers and an overwhelming desire to eat. They liked holy Digimon the best; this was the kind of food Hell itself wanted to nourish the Devil with. Just beneath the portal he had opened stood Iscarimon, an arrogant scowl across his face. He crossed his key arms and rubbed them together. In the next moment, they started to resemble a knife and fork.
"Time to eat."
The dragons suddenly flew forward at Omnimon, spewing flames from their mouth. He would have to react quickly and behead them before he found himself becoming an unlikely snack. Had Iscarimon lost sight of his mission objective? Maybe. This was just too damn fun.
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defectiveImmediately
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Post by defectiveImmediately on Jan 12, 2014 16:12:49 GMT
"I would like to introduce you to my dragons."This creature, this Digimon - if it could be called that - was something else. He sensed the energies of a Biomerge; the catalyst of human will and spirit always created powerful entities, as he was aware with certain comrades-in-arms Gallantmon, amongst others, but this was something different. Iscarimon had surpassed the typical threshold of Digimon power. There was something else at play here, something horrible; but Omnimon was no stranger to the first law of battle - don't let your opponent see your worries. "You're forgetting, kid," He tapped the WarGreymon head against his white, embossed Digizoid torso twice with two sequential, resounding clunks. "I'm part dragon." This much was true; it was why, in the old days, he and VictoryGreymon had bonded as they did. But, alas, such petty dissuasion was not about to stop Iscarimon's unfettered assault against the old warrior. A circle appeared in the air, burning bright, carved by these new, key-like utensils the reaper had seemingly called the flesh of his arms to form into. With a deeply unsettling and eerie grinding noise, from out of the ground, spitting red-hot ash and steaming grit and sand omnidirectionally in its wake, a giant, wrought door rose. Out of it seeped the smell of decay; the smell of rotting; the smell of Biblical disgust. Sulphur. It was a stench and scent upon his Digital nostrils he had known far too well from years of conquests in the areas of the Digital World the light unfortunately shone less on. Its allegorical "Hell" - the sanctum of corruption and decadence. "Wyrmhole."The doors burst open, and snapping their jaws as if it were feeding time, a series of ethereal, ghastly, demonic, flamed wyrms poured outwards. Perhaps he had been part dragon; but the half of him that stemmed from the data of a valiant draconian warrior was definitely far from the reach of these abominations' genesis. Irrespective of whatever plane of Hell Iscarimon had summoned them forth from, like snakes, they slid and drifted around the rooms on their bellies to begin with, snapping and gnashing their teeth, snorting flames like most did air. In spite of the burning, hissing pain the tendrils had left in his shoulder, Omnimon had bared the Grey Sword as soon as the portal had appeared, readying himself and trying to remain stalwart for what came next - but he had never envisioned this. They coiled around him, closing in and encroaching, encircling with every waking moment, like some infernal, harrowing heralds of his doomed fate. He was growing less and less sure of the odds being in his favour with every passing moment. Trying to pry one of the closer wyrms away with a joint effort from his blade and leg, he looked up just as Iscarimon spoke, having replaced the key arms with blades eerily reminiscent of a grandiose white-steel knife and fork: "Time to eat."As if by some unholy command, all at once, they leapt at him, the one coiled around his leg leaping up and yapping like some unfed puppy, each lurching forwards with darting movements and breathing wreathes and lances of hellfire forth from their mouth. Thankfully, the Omnimon had readied himself somewhat, and with a couple of fell slashes, disposed of one first approaching from the front, then spun, and ducked to gut one which had, in that time, started leaping over his head, slashing it into mere data in a matter of moments as the flames faded back into the barely-warmed air from whence they had came. But sequentially, some simultaneously, they were all darting at him. In truth, deep down, Omnimon was afraid. He had not been this afraid in years. Not since he had fought alongside his comrades. And then something changed within him. A binary switch had clicked inside his programming. Something which, in a spectacular turn of events, begun to decry five years of laziness, something which cast aside the entitled self-obsession he thought he deserved. He had lived a warrior's life and became a walking myth; now, surely, he deserved a legend's retirement? That had been his logic. Now, he knew; he saw it clearer than ever before. All these challenges, for all his fame and accolades, were bound to keep coming irrespective of what he did or where he ran to. It was time to stand up for the virtues he had used to, and to eliminate the vices he had vowed to rid the world, Digital or otherwise, of, as a warrior of light. The question that remained: had his catharsis come too late?[INITIATE THEME]Lizards were converging on him from every angle. And in his mind's eye, he felt the world stop; the world wait; and the world slow around him. The tongues and fangs of hellfire were licking at his armour and his skin - the wyrms were going to cleave his neck off in a series of fell blows and throw him to the dogs. Well, old as he might have been, even if it was a futile pursuit of newfound drive and redemption; he wasn't giving up yet. With all that he had been through, it would be unfitting for him not to survive. Though his armour was dull and his blade blunter than ever before, he would emerge on top or go out fighting til his last breath, an exhalation of a life well-lived upon the world. Or so he hoped. "DISC OF RESONANCE!" His voice boomed from within a blanket of flames; and in, apparently, the nick of time, a disc of holy energies began to cling to him, paused there in stasis for no more than a split-second, before casting itself outwards in a diametric shockwave, shearing the bodies of some of the wyrms leaping up at him in half, cutting others through the midsection or tail, and cleaving even one lengthways. When the last of the energies had began to dissipate from the air, nothing more than a light glistening of white stardust, what was left was Omnimon standing there, two holes in his left shoulder, and a grimy ashen scorch mark broaching the once-vibrant colour of his torso armour, brandishing the Grey Sword and Garuru Cannon over his chest in a proud cross. He felt like no gospel of Angemon in Luminas could have captured this moment more perfectly in song. The hero's redemption: hopefully in the nick of time.
The wyrms had all been felled; but the doors remained open, the nose-wrinkling scent of sulphur seeping out still, thick and solidifying upon the air. The portal to Hell was still very much there - this "wyrmhole", he imagined, could likely still conjure more further. So, taking aim, in a single, fluid movement, he cast his body forwards in a bold step, unfurling the Grey Sword, bright DigiRunes glowing orange along its awesome length, the tapered point, blunt from years of disuse, aimed straight at Iscarimon. "I will not be vanquished so easily," He spat with gritted teeth. He was not some mook that the lessers of Iscarimon would take care of. If the Traitor wanted him: he would come and get him. "ALL DELETE!" From the tip of the blade, in a split-second, of the same holy energies that had formed the Disc of Resonance, there conjured a glistening white presence; a moment passed, and it had grown into an orb the size of an apple. A moment more, the size of a melon. With each passing moment it was growing and swelling, til it was larger than the size of the WarGreymon head. There it paused for a moment: until from the tip of Omnimon's hand, as he drew it back, launched, with the power and effect of an impossibly huge blast of energy, a high-velocity ball of holy energy known to be effective against instantaneously deleting lower-level Virus Digimon. Iscarimon would likely survive if it touched him: but, being a purgative force siphoned from one of the Digital World's strongest collective anti-viral energies, it was going to fucking hurt. |
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Post by Deleted on Jan 12, 2014 16:21:52 GMT
It didn’t take much for the researcher to realize that his sword donor wasn’t your average loud mouthed, superiority complex idiot. True, he was full of himself, but the general seemed to posses the skill to back it up to a degree. Usually most fights ended with the Vandermon’s opening move. No one really expect him, mostly due to the fact that no one had ever seen a mangled chimera like him before. The perks of being a spliced up creature with no second, he would muse to himself often, but it would seem that his gizmos wouldn’t be helping him out this time.
As the blade collided with the shockwave, effectively canceling it out, Giygas could tell he had picked an excellent blade. That shockwave could slice through digizoid like a hot knife through butter, yet the Tactimon simply dispelled it. The mechanized chimera couldn’t help but grin. A worthy opponent indeed, but since the general kept calling him a coward and a dirty fighter, the scientist decided to comply. He would still make an effort to analyze every move the samurai threw at him, however. The king needed some tips for when he got his sword after all.
”Marvelous performance, Schwertkämpfer“ Giygas cheered, clapping in a slow, irritating manner. ”As for your constant whining, ask me if I’m listening. Hint; I’m not!“ With that, if the Tactimon bothered to observe the creature’s body, he would notice that the red, sickly looking ‘veins’ the Digimon bared on his arms would take on a purple hue. Gravity mode. ”Allow me to educate you. Vat is the stronkest thing in existence? Ze ultimate power? Gravity. Ze power to pull everything in... and spare not even a ray of light!... total darkness!“
The king cracked his foe a sly grin, thin, needle like teeth showing as his more mechanized arm formed a fist. A punch? The Tactimon would surely laugh at this petty effort, and who wouldn’t. Armored from head to toe with deadly weapons, what need did Giygas have to punch something. If only they knew. If the General paid enough attention he would feel his sword get much lighter, the weight of his armor disappearing. Gravity had been reversed the moment the Vandermon lunched an upper cut towards the demon swordsman. A punch from the chimera yield a lot of power even normally due to his mechanized body, but it was nothing compared to the amount of force it would generate in zero gravity. His aim was to knock him up, hopping to catch him off guard and then reverse gravity to slam him down.
“Vanish.” Giygas whispered, his chain wrapped hand flicking a finger upwards as his punch was ready to comment, his tail anchoring down to keep his own body in perfect position. “But not before you kneel!” The second command was more forceful, accompanied by a forceful downwards flick of the Digimon’s finger. Gravity instantly increased to a degree were even if the Tactimon had not been knocked up he would surely fall to his knees. That was the beauty of gravity. No one escaped it.
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defectiveImmediately
In-Training
Thunder for Mayor, Tyc for Attorney General, Necris for Congressman.
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Post by defectiveImmediately on Jan 12, 2014 23:49:10 GMT
”Allow me to educate you. Vat is the stronkest thing in existence? Ze ultimate power? Gravity. Ze power to pull everything in... and spare not even a ray of light!... total darkness!“ He readied the Sword of Storms with a scrutinous glare behind those glowing yellow orbs adorning the tactician's helm. The speech was foreboding; but this trickster had broken the first rule of man-to-man combat. He had given away the secrets of his sorcery. Disposed of the element of surprise. That was one thing, one advantage that was gone; the rule was never to reveal your strategy. The gambler plays best with his cards held to his chest. By revealing your plans you meant one of three things; idiocy, complete overconfidence in your strength, or that you knew you were covering every exit of the following assault, and wanted to rub salt in the wounds. Luckily, for Giygas, the last of those three was not true - though in the larger picture it may have been. Tactimon waited, watching, looking at those synthetic, augmented lips on that furred snout, waiting for them to so much as open: and in time they did.
The punch came at him. But as it did, he heard the words form on the strange, cyborg rogue's mouth. “Vanish.” His armour was beginning to lighten; he felt the standard weight of his blade start to fall away in his hand as, contained within this simple golden box of a room, the laws of physics were with every passing split-second starting to move further and further away from the boundaries of what he knew. Perhaps a lesser man would have been surprised still; but Giygas had announced his plans - the whole world may as well have been spectating. They would know what he was saying. With a shake of his head and a smile on his face, hidden, concealed behind that black-red mask, a low, booming chuckle began to seep outwards, and he slashed the Sword of Storms upwards into a block, lighter than ever before, careful to ensure he modified the laboured efforts he extended into his movements as not to launch it upwards and inadvertently lose himself.
"TENSHUKAKU!" The rogue machinist's fist collided, moments after the bark of command spilt forth, in its beautiful arcing uppercut as it was, with the underside of Tactimon's jaw. Gravity had been lowered; the Sword of Storms was now lighter than a foam sword. But using his Tenshukaku, his "Castle Keep", not only did he eliminate the feeling of all pain from his body and halve the damage of incoming physical attacks, he rooted himself to the ground, having increased his own relative density in roughly reverse proportion to the way Giygas had lowered gravity, essentially anchoring himself to the floor. The demon samurai flashed a smirk - the first of months - behind his faceguard and let booming laughter echo forth as the Vandermon attempted the second part of his attack with a flick.
“But not before you kneel!”
"BAHA! I KNEEL TO NO MON, LEAST OF ALL A PATHETIC MONSTER LIKE YOU WHO RELIES ON HIS SCIENCES AND HIS SORCERY!" It was pitiful to Tactimon. Gravity around him lowered once more; but it was no matter. He was anchored upright, density in his feet rendering him both unable to move - and unable to be moved. "You are the very thing in this world that makes me physically sick, makes me wish I had continued my conquests of this world for years further yet." If he could have spat? He would have. "Test me. Punch me. Strike me! I dare you! As much as you so want you will not meet the sheer stone guardianship of my will. I am an immovable object, a pillar of defense, an unnavigable obstacle." He cast the Sword of Storms out to the side with a whoosh as gravity returned slowly to normal, the blade's weight growing heavier. "I cannot be knocked down, least of all by a petty entity like you..." In accusing sweep, he pulled the blade forwards and aimed its tapered point at the Vandermon.
"And you were wrong. The strongest force in this universe, world Digital or otherwise?" Tactimon tilted his head, and brought his other hand forwards to grasp the hilt of the massive blade, before drawing it back inwards into a defensive guard with a grunt, his leg shifting outwards as he specifically disabled the density increase for a matter of seconds so he could move himself still. The only way to knock him down now was to catch him mid-movement - and if Tactimon moved, as great generals did, he moved with purpose, he moved fast as he coudl, and not for very long as to leave a window open. "That would be the will of a true warrior."He was a bastion. A castle. An impregnable fortress. An aegis who would continue to meet his enemies blows like a pair of boxers in the ring til one of them caught the other out with trickery or magicks or one fell flat and privy to forfeit and execution thanks to exhaustion.
This "Giygas" was far from worth his precious time. |
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Jan 13, 2014 15:00:52 GMT
Giygas gritted his teeth, trying his best not to lost his cool and give his enemy the satisfaction of watching him in rage. It would appear that his simulations were betraying him. Perhaps picking this for the first true battle of his Vandermon form was a mistake. No, he refused to accept that. All the scientist needed to do was have faith in his superior body and think outside the box. The royal scope covering his left eye focused on the Tactimon, analyzing him. It didn't appear that any of his moves, minus of course the canons mounted on his shoulders could charge up the electromagnetic barrier Giygas relied on to power up his blades. The Vandermon grinned to himself, an odd gesture given his situation. If the general wouldn't do it; he would.
"The vill of a warrior, eh? Fine by me."The flickering lights all over the chimeras body turned red once more as something seemed to shift inside of him. The sound of sickly gear turning and grinding against one another, although inaudible to the Tactimon, were heard. Several ports flung open all over the Digimon's body, his tail splitting open to reveal something that looked like the muzzle of a weapon and twin ports opened to reveal two sets of tiny, yet power weapons on top of his wrists. "Honestly, I am not very fond of BDSM, but it vould appear I am forced to engaging in a little bit of masochism."The plan was fairly simple. Since the swordsman wouldn't feed his blades, Giygas would simply have to do it manually. His shield would protect him from any damage.
"UPGRADE!" Giygas braced himself, cracking the general an odd grin. Even if he tried to attack him, he would suffer the effects of the Vandermon's self aimed barrage and projectiles wouldn't cut it either. "Scourge Regalia!" A bright, red hue seemed to envelop the mechanized chimera as the air around him appeared to be more dense. "CATHARSIS!" With that booming command, countless tiny missiles shot out of his body, almost as if they were stored in some form of hammer space. They would travel towards the Tactimon before making a rapid turn and colliding with the king, creating a vicious explosion, yet the creature seemed to be unharmed. When the smoke cleared, an intense amount of electricity was present around the researches body, crackling violently as a wide grin slowly over took his expression. "Show time."
This time it would be different. He had the element of surprise and he would use it. No speeches announcing the Vandermon's plans and certainly no stalling. His foe was unaware of the deadly weapons the researcher concealed within his body. In a moments time he dashed forward, wrist blades extending, both made from electrified digizoid and pure energy respectively. "Vicious Barrage!" Came Giygas's booming voice as the chimera readies himself to unleash a flurry of violent slashes to the degree were the air around his blades ignited from friction.
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